


The Dragon of the Reach

by CrimsonArrow



Series: The Champions of Tamriel [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-03 22:56:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13351251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimsonArrow/pseuds/CrimsonArrow
Summary: The Reach is often a dangerous and unforgiving place. Over the past two decades, the Forsworn held the mantle of the thing one most wanted to avoid if one desired to live. However, times are changing. Once taking back their homeland had been their only concern, but now dragons have risen and they are more than just 'the Nord's problem.' Aithne is a proud Forsworn and Reachwoman who is trying to do what's right for her homeland.  Tadion is an Altmer mage who's just trying to learn at the College of Winterhold, away from the politics of his homeland.  Naturally, things get quite complicated for both of them.





	1. Ch. 1 Dragon in the Reach

**Author's Note:**

> I'm certainly late to the game with Skyrim fanfiction, but as someone who still reads it, I can't be too behind I suppose. With that being said, this is a Skyrim fanfiction and will spoil many things including but not limited to the quest lines of the main one, Dark Brotherhood, and Mages College. It also is obviously heavily based on the Reach and by consequence the Forsworn. They are a very cool part of Skyrim's history and I really want to experiment with how someone from a Forsworn background would deal with being a Nordic legend, specifically the one that took their kingdom from them. Also since there is, sadly, not a lot known about them I will take a lot of creative liberties with that- again this is fanfiction if you want the actual storyline, play the damn game. It would also be good to note that I added the Dark Brotherhood in this list and while I don't personally promote listening to corpses that tell you to kill people, they are the most interesting people you encounter in the game and will be present. So if that makes you uncomfortable, you should not read this. Other themes that are present in the game will be present here. I will try to say at the beginning of each chapter if there is going to be something particularly sensitive. Lastly, there will be characters who are not heterosexual or conform to other 'norms' as it has been dubbed. Wow, I have spoken far too much. Constructive criticism is appreciated and do keep in mind if you truly don't like it you are more than welcome to not read it.
> 
> AND there is going to be a story that is an aside to this one and will be covering the events of Oblivion but won't be posted until later. This story is also posted on fanfiction.net and wattpad.com.

Dark, cramped, and now littered with the dead husks of spiders, Harmugstahl was hardly an ideal place to camp out at. However, beggars could not be choosers and the forsworn had dealt with worse conditions while in retreat. Granted, the briarhearts did have to evict the previous resident forcefully. Experimenting on spiders was good and well- the forsworn were guilty of that and more, but the Altmer mage who had been occupying the ruined fort wasn't accommodating to the group that had shown up on his doorstep in the dead of night at first. A short fight had ensued, which mostly consisted of them exterminating his pet spiders, and ended as quickly as it began. Luckily, the mage had known that being outnumbered by frantic forsworn warriors and mages was a queue for him to stand down. Normally there wouldn't have been a choice and the mage would have been offered up to the gods to deal with, but they had other things to worry about.

Aithne's lips curled in disgust as she and two other warriors had the honor of cleaning out the spider carcasses under the hateful gaze of the said mage as the other warriors searched the rest of the fort for any more threats.

"If you value our mercy, you should leave," One of the briarhearts said cooly to the mage once Harmugstahl had been deemed safe enough for the sick and wounded.

"Great mercy this was," the Altmer grumbled as he gathered the paper remains of his research.

"I would avoid going west." Aithne offered helpfully as he passed her. "Specifically the ruins. They're not safe at the moment."

Wisely, the mage took the warning as his eyes widened. If there was something that sent the forsworn, traditionally the most dangerous thing in the Reach, running then perhaps he should as well. The mage had known it was a gamble to settle in the Reach to begin with. Perhaps he'd go somewhere quiet like Whiterun. Surely the Stormcloaks and Imperials weren't this hard to deal with.

Shamans began to set up protective wards around the area before everyone regrouped in the main sanctum of Harmugstahl. No one spoke as the briarhearts had a collective strained look on their faces for a few moments. As long as they were still alive it meant their matriarch was too, which gave them hope. Surely the threat would be done with soon if their infamous hagraven was personally dealing with it. Most of them had been tending to their nightly duties when the alarm was raised and they were given orders to make sure those who couldn't fight were taken care of. Few things could shake the Reachmen, much less send them into a panicked retreat. Those who were gathered had little knowledge of what exactly was happening, but it didn't rest well with them.

"The matriarch has ordered reinforcements." One intoned as they all shared alarmed looks. It was foolish to believe that their beloved hagraven wasn't failable, but they had been caught unawares and at a severe disadvantage.

Aithne stepped forward as did a couple with her. "My group can go. We were supposed to go on patrol before the attack anyway. We're better prepared for this." The briarheart nodded in agreement after a short pause as if he had been waiting for his master's approval. Their decision making was severely limited in their altered states, but as long it fulfilled whatever orders their masters gave them, it hardly mattered.

"Go now and aid the matriarch. We must stay and guard those who cannot." He said before turning sharply on his heel to begin his own patrol. One of the shamans stepped forward with a determined look.

"The others may need aid-"

"I was there when it happened." The woman was curt, cutting off whatever Aithne had been prepared to say. Shamans battled with enemies and death on a regular basis and were among the most formidable of the forsworn and to see this one visibly distressed gave Aithne cold chills. "Besides, you'll need as many as we can spare. The others will be fine with what they have." Aithne could hardly argue with the small number of people able to go with her, added to the fact that she hadn't the faintest idea of what was going on anyway.

"Right. Well, let's go then." Aithne nodded, not that she had another choice. The others followed suit as they made their way back to Ragnvald, where they had set up a temporary camp. "Can you tell us what we're dealing with then?"

The other woman gave her a grim look. "Draugr, powerful ones at that. Whatever the ancient Nords had buried there. It wasn't happy to wake up."

"Wait. I thought we cleared it out weeks ago.." Roric, a sentinel from Aithne's camp before this one, cut in. "I helped with burning the bodies."

"It was." The shaman shook her head. "I've never seen one like this before though or why it has woken. If it had been disturbed by us it wouldn't rise when we first came and were actually prepared."

Powerful draugr that had decided to wait until everyone was comfortable in its crypt. Lovely and horrifically pragmatic save for the fact that draugr were essentially mindless without their souls. There were many Aithne herself had crossed paths with, but none had been able to accomplish that.

"Do you think this could be a necromancer?" Aithne speculated. At least if they finished the mage behind it, it would end the spell over the undead. It wouldn't be unlikely given the fact that many wizards and witches had taken to the Reach's wilds to practice their magic. The forsworn were a prime example of that.

"I suppose it could be, though it must be a right powerful one." The shaman said, her hurried gate was the only thing that shrouded her shiver. "Old gods please let the matriarch already have dealt with it." She murmured quietly.

Once they arrived at the abandoned camp, they thought their prayers had been answered. The matriarch, a particularly grim hagraven by the name of Drascua, stood at the forefront with a steely look. The hagraven's personal witches and briarhearts were tending to those who had been injured. Drascua herself seemed to be sporting wounds, but she was still standing as tall and horrifying as ever.

"It's weakened, but it yet lives." Drascua's face was twisted into a grimace as she addressed them. The shaman that had accompanied her stepped forward with a look of concern.

"Matriarch, let me heal-" The woman offered but went silent as Drascua shook her head.

"Save your magic, Kora. You will need it soon." In turn, the hagraven brought a glowing hand to her own side as she healed herself quickly. A briarheart wordlessly brought over a potion to the matriarch as she headed back towards the ruin. "Come, I don't know how much time we have before it heals itself again."

Aithne shared a look with the shaman, Kora. She looked as disturbed by that as Aithne felt. The others in her group followed closely behind as Drascua led the way. The further inside the ruined temple, the more signs of struggle appeared. It wasn't the first time that Aithne had to come back to an abandoned camp, but she had a distinctly bad feeling about this. It didn't get better as they entered where the hagraven had resided and where they had subsequently awoken the dead. Everything was still as everyone who could silently cast mage armor on themselves.

The matriarch's laboratory was wrecked. Scraps of papers littered the floor, tables had been overturned, and some of her experiments seemed to have caught on fire. Though Aithne barely paid any heed to it. At the center of the antechamber was a wall full of a script from a language that she could not decipher yet, it was familiar somehow. Aithne found herself drawn to it. The whispered orders to get back went unheard to her as her world seemed to hone in on the wall. Aithne was standing before the wall before she realized what she was doing.

A single etched word shined brightly, bathing Aithne's vision in blue just as her mind grabbed onto the foreign writing. Even if she wanted to, Aithne knew she would not forget this word.

Kaan. Kyne.

Roric grabbed her shoulder as she was jerked out of whatever stupor she had just been in. "We must be vigilant." He hissed urgently.

"But did you not-" Aithne gestured to the wall that had been glowing not even a moment ago.

"Aithne, quiet. I think I hear something." Roric murmured and they felt the draugr's arrival before they saw it. A wave of force sent both of them tumbling back as the others quickly took up arms and readied their magic. Aithne quickly got to her feet with a sword in hand as she cast a ward around them, the wall temporarily forgotten. The draugr's malachite mask gleamed ominously as it faced them. They all had the sense to get out of the way as lightning arched over their heads and hit one of the warriors behind them.

Slicing the damn thing proved to be fruitless as it moved far too fast for any of them to actually hit it. Magic also proved difficult as it seemed to merely just be absorbed as spells hit it nearly harmlessly. Only their combined efforts slowed it down. Roric's arrows were only able to land when the creature stood still, which was rare. Most of the warriors took different spots throughout the chamber, hoping to catch it with their axes and swords mid-retreat.

The draugr was still obviously worn down from its fight before, but the matriarch fought like she had just begun. Had there been a moment to, Aithne would've stopped to marvel in astonishment or fear that one person could hold that much power. Even though the draugr was outnumbered so heavily, it still took awhile for it to finally go down. Most were winded after the battle, but some of the mages, including Aithne herself, were drained.

Drascua went over to the creature's remains, now all turned to ash, and picked up the mask it left behind. With a low growl she threw it back down on one of the stone tables, muttering about the 'wretched undead going back to the void' before going over to the ones that had been hit by the draugr's spells to begin healing them enough for the other shamans to tend to them.

Kora gave Aithne a slight smile, a bit of blood was coming from her cheek but she seemed unaffected in the least. "Bloody thing. At least no one else died. Shame it turned into a pile of dust. I imagine the matriarch is displeased that there is little left to actually experiment with."

If Aithne was to believe the bit of legend that surrounded Drascua's name, she doubted only having part of its remains would stop her from gathering what she wanted to know from it. "Yes. Though I can't help but wonder why'd it wake up now instead of earlier. And the wall? I've never seen anything like it."

Kora's smile disappeared at that. "I haven't the slightest idea. Occasionally a great source of power can wake the more dangerous ones, but we weren't doing anything that we haven't been for the past few weeks."

"You sure you all weren't making more briarhearts or something?" Roric chimed in as he began to take in the fact that Drascua had a higher count than most. Which was considered to be a great feat that so many people wanted to pledge their lives to her, but for someone born in Markarth, Roric was understandably concerned. Aithne herself was born in a small miner settlement, but her background as a Reachwoman and someone who was temporarily raised among imperials allowed her to work as an agent. Roric had been recruited by her during one of her scouting missions to the city. The more the Jarl drove the city into the ground, the more Reach sympathizers she began to find, though most were not nearly as.. Zealous as the forsworn.

"Positive," Kora said in a slightly clipped tone. "We should be more thorough in our searches next time perhaps. On the bright side, if it was a power that was stirring things... Everything that was going to be woken certainly has been."

Aithne laughed lightly, the adrenaline was beginning to wear off and she could feel her body demand rest. In the back of her mind, though she could still feel that word. Kaan. Why would Kyne's name stick out to her? What did it mean? She was tempted to ask but was interrupted as the briarhearts shot to attention in a show of swiftness and genuine alarm she had ever seen. Aithne's hand went to her hilt.

"I was hoping it didn't have any fucking friends.." Kora's eyes narrowed as she quickly took a magicka potion out of her bag. Many of the others followed suit. It looked like the forsworn wasn't going to catch a break today.

Drascua's face, though marred by the effects of becoming a hagraven, had shown an all too human emotion Aithne had believed no hagraven had. Fear. The hagraven's beady black eyes looked at them as she processed whatever the briarhearts were communing to her. "Go to the entrance, all of you." She ordered as she moved with a speed that no hagraven should be capable of as everyone stood in shock for a moment. "NOW."

Everyone who could, began to run behind her with an urgency they hadn't before. If there was another one left, they could take it. They had enough people and magic to kill another overly powerful draugr if need be. However, Aithne had a distinct feeling that would not be the case again. Drascua was all fury and determination before entering Ragnvald, now she was afraid.

At the entrance had been tents, bits of furniture, and a couple of the wounded from the first attack. When they arrived, all that was left were charred remains.

"How... Who could've?" Kora breathed out in horror, her eyes were glassy as she took in the deliberate destruction around her. "Was this a setup?" She began to demand angrily. All of the wounded that had managed to escape had been left to die unsheltered from whatever attacked and they all were prepared to act of the righteous fury in them. "Matriarch Drascua, what did your briarhearts see?"

Had this been another situation, Kora would've more than likely been on the business end of Drascua's nastier spells, but this wasn't a normal situation. The hagraven ignored her as she glared up at the sky. "Old gods have mercy. The real fight has only begun." She cast another ward up as a shadow passed over them.

The hair on the back of Aithne's neck stood on end as someone gasped at her side and the shadow let out a tremendous roar. Legends be damned. A dragon had attacked the others and they were next. Heat and light nearly made short work of them as they all scrambled to get away. Despite the fear in her, she felt something else stir in her. Her blood felt like it was boiling as she stared the dragon down and it seemed to look back at her. Aithne let out a cry of rage as she charged past her fellows and went for the beast.

Legends be damned, indeed. A rush filled her veins and she knew was not going down without taking it with her. 

-/-

Aithne took cover behind a boulder as she narrowly escaped being burnt again. Her side was bruised, her arms were burnt, and a gash at her hairline had a steady stream of blood that kept getting in her eye. From where she was crouching, she could see at least a few others had survived the latest attack. She hoped more were alive, but she doubted it. This wasn't like fighting the draugr. The fight was dragging on and the dragon had the upper hand.

The fire stopped engulfing her temporary shelter and she heard the powerful beat of the dragon's wing as it went overhead in the sky. Last time they thought it meant the dragon was retreating, but they were sorely wrong. Aithne and the others didn't make that assumption twice. However, as the dragon circled, it gave her enough time to dart over a patch of rocks to where four others were taking cover.

Kora, two warriors, and the sentinel looked no better than she did. Roric was the first to speak as he notched another arrow in his bow. Matriarch Drascua was doing her best keep those who couldn't shield themselves from the dragon's fire.

"I doubt reinforcements will be coming..." Roric said, his usually young face was dirty and grim, though he knew that the chance of anyone saving them was slim. "They couldn't have missed that damn thing from Harmugstahl."

"I don't doubt they saw it." The shaman murmured as she looked up at the sky, waiting for a sign of the dragon again. Technically they were supposed to be reinforcements. "The only ones who had been left were those who couldn't fight. Someone needs to protect them. Which leaves us to distract the dragon."

Aithne could only agree, she would've done the same in the others' position. Although their outlook wasn't very good and she doubted they would hold up too much longer. "They will cut their losses." She nodded, approving even if it meant their demise. A roar and the flap of wings signaled the dragon was coming back for them.

She couldn't help but think, How the hell did I get stuck with the camp that had to fight a dragon, again?

The ground shook under them as the dragon landed and reared it's massive head back. "Get out of the way!" Roric yelled as they scattered. Aithne felt the heat on her back as she dove. She was sure the back of her armor was scorched, but she was alive. For now. Aithne's legs ached as she rushed the dragon from its side.

"FOR THE FORSWORN!" Was the last thing Aithne heard from one of the warriors that charged the dragon head-on with a sickening crunch. She ignored the bright blood that hit her side that was not from the dragon. The other remaining warrior took the opportunity to slash at the dragon's softer underbelly where its dark scales weren't as strong. Overhead, Aithne heard the hagraven's shriek of rage as the dragon claimed another forsworn. A barrage of lighting from Drascua flowed harmlessly over Aithne before striking the dragon.

Aithne hacked upon anything within her sword arm's reach, her magic was completely out. Its wings, arms, legs... She knew they were fighting a losing battle. Kora was all but burnt out, very few warriors were left, Roric didn't have many arrows left, and Drascua's magic was strong but waning. Aithne's arms protested but she kept bringing her sword up every time. The other warrior was making far more progress than her, as was Kora's magic and Roric's sharp arrows. Kora distracted the beast the best she could with a flurry of ice at its maul and eyes. Roric's arrows were dwindling quickly, but the sentinel tried to make each one count. A few glanced of its scales but Aithne could see a few beginning to penetrate its neck. Somehow Aithne felt a bit of hope.

The creature jerked its head furiously while it tried to counter Kora's destruction spells with its own fire. It was damn near successful as Kora put up a hasty shield to protect Roric and herself. Aithne continued to slash again before the dragon turned its attention to her and the warrior.

"Get down!" She ordered as she rolled past the snapping teeth that tried to eat her. The dragon growled as it reared its head back again to release its fire. "Oh fuck.." She groaned as she prepared to face certain death, or near to it, but a nasty blast from Kora rendered it blind and Drascua's ward shimmered around her for a moment. And a moment was all she needed.

Aithne would later digress that going underneath a dragon in an attempt to slit its neck wasn't the brightest idea nor the safest, but she and her comrades were running out of options. Her attacks before hadn't been much against the dragon's thick scales, but the wounds the dragon suffered created gaps for her sword to easily cut into. Aithne viciously slashed into the weak patch that her fellow warrior had tried attacking before. In that moment, she felt victorious. Of course, that was until the dragon decided she was its next target.

"Fall back!" Came a rather belated call from the warrior across her as she hit the ground. "WHAT DO YOU THINK I'M DOING?!" Aithne screamed as she got to her feet and scrambled out of the dragon's reach.

She could tell it was finally starting to get desperate. It wasn't going to fly with the state of its wings and its neck was oozing blood. Aithne just hoped that they could outlast the dragon long enough for it to bleed out. If not, at least their camp would be safe and they'll all go to the Void boasting like Nords to their fellows in the afterlife that they- probably -killed a dragon.

Almost, she thought as she dodged another bite as it took turns between snapping at her and the other. Her arms protested as she brought her sword up again. Aithne didn't get the chance to bring the sword down as it managed to swipe its tail at her. She cried out as she was thrown on the ground and the sword was wrenched from her hand. Aithne was sure she blacked out for a moment when her head hit the ground because one second she was staring up at the sky and the next the dragon's head was over her. In a moment of panic, she grabbed onto one of its horns and to try to steer its head away from her.

Perhaps it was from having to handle unruly goats all the time that made her go for them, but whatever it was she was glad she did it. The dragon's head didn't move much, but it did yank her up from the ground as she forgot to let go. Aithne's grip barely held as it snapped its head back, though her shoulders were paying for it. As the dragon's head went back down, she followed it and managed to land on top of the monster. Through sheer willpower, or more likely the courage spell Kora used a few moments ago, she managed to pull herself up farther until she was at the top of its neck. Aithne hoped that the small steel dagger at her waist would at least buy them time.

"VOID TAKE YOU, YOU BASTARD!"

Aithne brought it down in quick session into the dragon's face repeatedly with a scream until she got it jammed into its eye. Still, she pressed on until it let out a final shriek. She let go as the sound made her cover her ears in a poor attempt to stop the ringing that vibrated her skull. The dragon collapsed and she tumbled down with it. Aithne tried to sit up after she hit the ground again.

"Well, fuck.." She muttered, her breath catching in her battered chest. How painful, but wonderful to somehow still be fucking alive. Aithne heard, rather than saw the rest of the group run over to her.

"You're crazy as hell," Roric said breathlessly once he raced over to her side and crouched down next to her as the warrior and Kora stood close.

"Possibly." She grinned, but it was taken off her face as quickly as it came as her body rudely reminded her of the distress she had brought to it with a painful jolt. A few tears of relief gathered in the corners of her eyes as Kora pressed a healing potion into her hands.

"Did you hear it scream? That thing was so much worse than the draugr." The shaman said with an awfully alarmed look on her face, still in a bit shock, as she looked down at Aithne.

"No, I was distracted by the fact WE KILLED A DRAGON." Aithne would've rolled her eyes if she had the energy. However, whatever the shaman had to say to her was cut short by Rodic's stricken voice.

"Perhaps we're celebrating too soon?" Came his quiet question as they all looked over at the carcass of the dragon. At first, Aithne didn't see anything amiss, no movement or fire... But then she saw it and so did the rest of them.

"Is... Is it glowing?" The warrior gasped as he started backpedaling. Aithne had similar ideas as she propped herself up, thankfully the potion had already begun its magic.

"Um, this is probably our time to go," Aithne suggested as Roric and Kora quickly dragged her to her feet. "Agreed!" One of the murmured hurriedly, but immediately the dragon shifted from giving off a subtle glow to blindingly bright light in an instant.

Aithne couldn't see, hear, or feel anything. Am I dead? That's awfully anticlimactic. The thought rang in her head until rushing images of fire clouded her head. 

Fire. Destruction. Memories that were not hers, but were now. Speaking in a language she never spoke, but understood. Images she had never seen began to flood her mind.

Allegiance. The moment the dovah allied itself The Thuri... A black as night, monstrous dovah.

Strong. The dovah survived the Dovah-Krivaan of the Merethic Era.

Hunt. The dovah thirsted for the kill. The kill of the Dovahkiin.

He was Mirmulnir.

The dragon fire faded into another memory. A very recent one. Before fighting the draugr she read something with unfamiliar humming and script. Aithne had almost forgotten seeing the glowing words, but now she could see it in the forefront of her mind, clear as day as if she was physically back in Ragnvald again as the word burned bright again with new meaning.

Kaan. Kyne. It was peace.

In a rush, Aithne was back on the ground with very alarmed Forsworn standing over her. However, she still was not quite herself. Her mind was reeling as the dragon's presence threatened to overtake her. She screamed in pain and at them.

"Tinvaak, jul!" Aithne commanded, the words rolling off her tongue like they had always been there. She would not allow mere mortals to look down on her she was Dovah and they would bend. The blood in her veins demanded submission and respect. She was better than the jul and she would prove it if she had to.

Kora summoned a shield over them as Aithne went into hysterics. "Maybe we should give her a moment.." She suggested quietly to the other two as they all began to back up. Drascua watched it play out with a hint of exasperation. Roric decided to make a run for it as Aithne growled again.

Good, she thought as they back away from her. They need to fear me... They are bound to the earth and I am not. My power, my blood makes me so much better than all of them! I AM Thuri! 

Aithne did not realize she was continuing her rant out loud, albeit in a different language. However, as abruptly as it had started, it stopped. Drascua had cast a calming spell over her and Aithne felt the heated feelings of anger and dominance ebb away until they were almost gone. But they were still there, lingering below the surface, waiting to take over her again. And in the end, she felt a sudden tension slip in her head and she, to the other's relief, passed out.

/-/

When Aithne woke, she was staring up at the roof of a hide tent. She believed for a few moments that it had been a dream, but the pain that seemed to roll over her body in waves and the disoriented feeling in her mind reminded her she wasn't that lucky. However, she was lucky to at least be alive.

"Aithne," Came a sharp, familiar voice. She managed to crack open an eye to look over at the almost blurry figure. "Take this now."

She could only grunt as another stabbing pain attacked her skull. However, after a few moments, she managed to make out the woman with a gravelly and harsh voice. Aithne knew better than to not obey as she took the potion.

"Matriarch..?" Sima whispered as her eyes widened.

Matriarch Drascua was not a charitable old woman, by any means. She was the hagraven in charge of this camp... The Matriarch. And she was in her tent, personally tending to her. While it was an honor, usually it wasn't in good circumstances that she would do it herself. There was only a number of things that brought the matriarch into one's tent for and none of the those appealed to Aithne in the slightest.

"You did well in killing the dragon," Drascua said as her claw-like fingers wrapped around the now empty vial before shuffling over to a large pot in the middle of the tent. "Although next time you should leave more than a skeleton for me to examine next time, yes? The dragon priest was an upset that we didn't get a good sample of, but wiping the dragon's bones clean is quite unhelpful. However, do not misunderstand. I am pleased that we are not dealing with that beast anymore.

Oh. Aithne remembered as her mind cleared up, save for the lingering presence she felt in the back of her mind. I helped kill a dragon today.

"Matriarch. I don't know what I did, but I took something from that dragon... I saw all those things?" She murmured quietly as sat up, it felt like her head had been torn apart. Even now Aithne could feel her blood stir, but the memories in her head were having trouble meshing with the ones she had just acquired. It was like the dragon was still alive, but inside her.

"In this, I cannot say for certain yet, child." The hagraven said as she turned to her again. Aithne only ever saw her from a safe distance and up close wasn't very aesthetically pleasing. Feathers and wrinkled, leathery skin... Those knowing, beady eyes felt like the hagraven could see through her. Yet she managed to look as concerned as humanly possible it seemed. "But I do know that to date three separate camps have been attacked by a dragon, including ours. But we're the only ones that have managed to kill the dragon. Or at least effectively. Karthspire had sent a warning, but we didn't get it when we had to abandon Ragnvald." Drascua added before looking over at her with a crackling laugh, ignoring the potential demise of the other settlements. "Worry not about them dear, Karthspire is well fortified... As for Deepwood Redoubt, that's hopefully the old gods punishing them."

"Oh.." Aithne managed in a high voice. Hagravens weren't famous for their caring nature and their ability to work well with others. However, their affairs were none of Aithne's business and she preferred to keep it that way.

The other nodded as she sat down, perched really, in a ruffle of feathers. "You were a babbling mess. I thought I was going to have to turn you into a briarheart to shut up." She cackled again, but Aithne didn't find it as funny. It would hardly surprise her if the woman cut out the hearts of annoying or unruly Forsworn for just that. While she had heard that briarhearts were willing servants, she just wasn't so sure sometimes.

Speaking of, she could see one posted by the edge of the tent. Motionless and emotionless. Bound to servitude. Aithne wasn't about to volunteer anytime soon based on rumors. She quickly looked away before her eyes would wander down to his uncovered chest that proudly bared an open cavity where a flower instead of a heart resided. It was one thing to see them in battle and an another to see them completely devoid of everything.

The hagraven continued as she returned to her side. "You spoke in a different tongue, do you remember any of it?"

"I think." Aithne frowned, the language seemed to stick where the presence in her mind resided. "It's like it's stuck in one spot in my head and it won't move. Like the memories and the words are just... trapped and the dragon is there."

Drascua had, what Aithne assumed, an amused look on her face. "Interesting.." She crooned. "Well, my dear I find myself impressed you now can speak some of the dragon tongue. Be magic, possession, or what have you, I do not have answers for you. Yet. I will inquire with my sisters and see what my salvaged notes say. Whatever it is that you have done, I have no doubt that it will be needed in the future."

Aithne nodded dutifully. She would protect her home. Whether it be dragons, draugr, or Nords. "Yes, my matriarch."

"Good child." The hagraven smiled, though it didn't look remotely human. Drascua stood from her side, her feathers settling against her thin arms. "I'll have the shamans look after you until you are fully healed."

Aithne shook her head, feeling better already as fear coursed through her. "I'll be perfectly fine on my own, but thank you matriarch..." The shamans were nice to have on a battlefield or in most life-threatening situations. However, they tended to their wounded and sick in the camp like they were still in the midst of battle.

The smile seemed to widen, showing off a set of crooked, sharp teeth. "Oh, did I ask if you wanted that, dear?"

Aithne slowly shook her head. She could have sworn she saw a bit of amusement on the briarheart's face this time, but it was gone as soon as she thought she had seen it. "Uh.. no. Thank you again." Aithne added quickly but reluctantly acquiesced to the hagraven.

"Hm." Drascua nodded without further ceremony turned away in a flurry of feathers, the briarheart was on her heels. Aithne let out a breath she had been unconsciously holding as the matriarch left. It was terrifying honor to be graced with a matriarch's presence if you were a forsworn- though it's just terrifying if you're, let's say, a Stormcloak. Aithne would've thought to meet her under different circumstances, but she couldn't complain. Or so she thought as a small army of shaman healers came marching into her tent. Still in warpaint and gear as they crowded her with their head healer in tow.

They examined her quickly and began healing her. Thankfully they informed her they had others to take care of and as long as she didn't move from her bedroll too much, she would be fine in a few days but would be under constant watch until then. Aithne suspected it was just as much in case she did something else weird- like devouring a dragon again -as much as it was that she wouldn't try to escape the healers. Aithne would not relish being confined, but she would endure it. She had never been one for settling down in one place for a long time, which the healers understood but did not care. Aithne was in their tent so she was under their rule here.

Aithne tensed up a bit as one of the shamans approached her. "You have visitors. They will not be allowed to stay long." Without waiting for a response the shaman withdrew and let two people in.

The sentinel and the shaman had come. Roric, the sentinel, looked nearly brand new, though there were obvious red patches on him that had been burned but were healing well already. "Are you... Coherent?" He asked tentatively which earned him a sharp nudge from Kora.

"The others said that they were going to watch over you for a while. We figured you'd be pleased to hear that we were alright." Kora explained, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her tired face. Aithne wasn't a healer, but she knew her fair share amount of magic and what magicka exhaustion looked like. The other woman's face was pale and around her eyes were dark circles. Aithne imagined that she didn't look that much better.

"Of course," Aithne nodded as she sat up slowly. Her head was still a little dizzy and she began to wonder what exactly the shamans gave her to take the edge off. "How is everyone else?" She knew they had certainly lost many people.

"Brannon and Adair from our patrol survived. They both took some nasty blows from that dragon... But they will live, thanks to you." Roric said reassuringly before giving her a somber look. "Other than them, no one else did. I'm not sure what the exact number is yet."

"There will be a vigil later, I can ask the hagraven if you can attend." Kora offered, making Aithne give her a small smile in turn.

"Please, I wouldn't want to miss that." Aithne nodded quickly. They were a quiet for a moment, but then Roric took a brief glance over at the shaman next to him before looking back over at Aithne with concern.

"Have they said anything about... The dragon business?"

Well, that was a polite way to put it, she supposed. Aithne didn't exactly have a word to put to it yet either. "The matriarch is going to look into whatever happened to me. She seems to think it's going be important."

"Good." Kora nodded in relief. "We were mostly curious. The matriarch is going to have me help her research it. I was originally assisting with translating the word wall in Ragnvald."

"You and me both." Aithne laughed lightly, she was beginning to ignore the way her head felt.

"Well, you know. Adair swears up and down you have some gift." Roric said, looking a bit tentative once more. Kora gave him a look as if she knew what he was about to say. "He grew up in Windhelm, surrounded by those Tiber Septim fanatics. Adair said it was something out of a legend. Something about using the Voice." He said before lowering his own voice. "Like Ulfric Stormcloak."

Aithne felt cold as she heard the name, much less being compared to it. Though if Roric and Adair were making that connection that most certainly meant others would. Roric shared the sentiment. He gave her an almost pitying look as her dread furthered. "Though he called you a dragonborn. They could hunt dragons and take their soul. Or something to that effect."

"You look a little faint, Aithne," Kora said as she brought a softly glowing hand up to Aithne's face.

No. That couldn't be right. Sure she was of mixed descent, that's how Bretons were made, but she wasn't a Nordic legend. Aithne took a breath, after all, there was no reason to get worked up over. There was no evidence. Well, minus the part where she.. Did something to that dragon. There was going to be a reasonable explanation for it. She hoped.

"I'm fine," Aithne said dismissively and the two certainly didn't believe her. She wasn't fine. Aithne had the possibility of being like Tiber motherfucking Septim. Why couldn't she be a legend like the Red Eagle? "Perhaps you should mention what Adair said to the Matriarch." Roric nodded slightly, not looking any better than she. She wasn't going to tell their leader that it was possible she was something out of a Stormcloak fairytale. "Is there, uh, anyway I find out though. Just to make sure?"

Roric didn't look too enthusiastic and opened his mouth to explain before Kora gave him a severe look. Aithne's eyes narrowed as she looked between them. "The matriarch will be handling that, from what I've been told." More like ordered, it seemed. "Even if you do turn out to be some kind of Nordic legend, the forsworn doesn't abandon its own. None of us will forget what you did for us."

Aithne could take peace in that. While there was plenty of infighting within the camps since their central power was all but destroyed years ago, they all still held onto the same beliefs and ways of life. She would still have a home in the Reach. So as long as she didn't actually follow in the footsteps of the pseudo-god, Aithne should be fine. Besides, now that dragons were suddenly not extinct anymore they had bigger problems to deal with than Aithne's new, possibly Nordic, trick.

"Well... We should probably let you rest before the others kick us out. I'll visit you tomorrow. Give you something to keep you entertained while you're under tent-arrest." Kora smiled slightly before she herding Roric out.

Aithne could definitely use the distraction, but she wasn't used to the company. Taking on the role of a wandering warrior and scout, going where only she was needed made her feel almost like an outsider to her own people. This development didn't make her feel any closer to anyone. She did appreciate Kora's subtle effort, though. Aithne found herself looking forward to it, despite the small discomfort. However, Aithne was more pleased to see them alive, but she remembered how many she lost during the attack. They hadn't been a large camp, to begin with, and their loss would be felt for awhile. The healers did pass along a couple of messages from others, thanking her and those who survived. She didn't deserve it, but she would let them be the judge of that.

The next day she visited by the matriarch again, who had Kora in tow with her. Drascua looked particularly pleased with herself. Kora seemed to be alive with energy, no longer suffering from the effects of extending herself.

"Adair shared his suspicions with me and I consulted my sisters." Drascua began. Aithne hadn't imagined that the hagraven was fond of this possibility and it made her a bit fearful that the old woman was grinning in her own fashion. While hagravens weren't singularly cruel, typically they took more joy from others suffering. "We do not have the means to officially see if you are or not, but we can start ruling out other options. I can begin conducting my own experiments," Aithne did cringe at the thought but it went ignored by the matriarch. "Saoirse of Karthspire believes you're probably possessed by Akatosh. Deepwood Redoubt fears you're Tiber Septim reborn. Which if you are, by the way, feel free to start with their camp first when you destroy the Reach... As for the others, they have other things to deal with but would appreciate your help in the future if a dragon attacks them next. I would say you should aid Deepwood, but I'm not feeling charitable towards her today and you need to stay so you can rest and I can study you."

Aithne nodded along, realizing she had little choice in this matter. The path of less resistance was the best route with hagravens, Drascua in particular. She knew that the old witch held a great deal of power, hell she witnessed it personally, but she also commanded a large modicum of respect from other camps. Aithne didn't know why exactly, but she knew better than to disobey despite the urge in her head from whatever magic she had taken from the dragon. She felt like her head didn't have enough space for both of them and she didn't like relying on the healer's potions to keep the sensation and pain at bay.

"Of course, matriarch. I'm ready when you are." Aithne said, and almost immediately regretted it.

Drascua's grin widened and Kora even had a small glimmer in her eyes that wasn't there before. Aithne had a sinking feeling they were both far too eager for this. "Then we will begin."


	2. Ch. 2 Endeavor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Vigil has begun, but life continues. For most at least.

At dawn, the vigil for those who were lost at Ragnvald began. Aithne had been allowed out of the shaman’s hands and into the matriarch’s care right before they all gathered. The Reachmen were not exactly traditional as far as human races went in what they believed in and what they considered the afterlife to be. The Divines were worshiped but in conjunction with the Old Gods and the Daedra. Most took on a primary patron, but still revered the others. This was why their interpretation of the afterlife wasn’t set to one singular place, like Sovngarde. If they worshiped a particular Daedra, say Hircine, they would hope to go the Hunting Grounds when they pass. However, they were the kind of people that were more focused on the present, rather than the afterlife. It also helped that other populations feared the realms of Daedra and the Void whereas the Reachman would be perfectly content there. The gods and Daedra took care of their faithful, what did they have to fear?  
Well, some of the few Nords within the Forsworn actually did fear going to somewhere like Sovngarde, but they were happy to hope they would still be among the people they truly thought of as kin after their lives had been said and done.

In the early hours of the day, they would mourn their lost and pray to the patron of the Void, Sithis, to protect their fallen comrades' souls. At the end of the day was another story. Life was fleeting and should be celebrated and honored. The only way the Reachmen believed that they could properly do that was to get drunk off a concoction of juniper berries and whatever alcohol they had on hand. Traditionally there would be fires burning throughout the night and occasionally some festivities if something major had happened, but they had too much work to do and many weren’t inclined to the idea of building fires outside of Harmugstahl and attracting the ire of another dragon. Though, they took comfort that they had something, whatever that something was, against the dragons. Whether Aithne was just blessed or cursed, depending who was asked, she still gave them hope. Whatever the coming of the dragons meant, she would be there and with her people.

Aithne was hyperaware of the new attention that she had garnered as she went through the ruin to meet with Drascua. Some simply watched her curiously while other gave her a salute. She recognized some of them as the ones she fought next to only days before. So far, she was relieved that there were no suspicious glances or veiled threats. While she did not expect anything to come of it, fear made people do things that they usually wouldn’t and even the Forsworn weren’t immune to fear, despite their efforts to seem like it.

“Come, dear, we have much to do,” Drascua said once she made it into the area of the ruin that the hagraven had claimed for her own. Her remaining witches were methodically sorting through her research that had been saved and trying to make the most out of the new space they occupied. Kora was also there, not surprisingly, with an enthusiastic look on her face when her eyes landed on Aithne. It had taken a moment for Aithne to realize why Kora seemed to be at the hagraven’s side consistently, but it hit her when one of the briarhearts addressed Kora as Drascua’s First. Most camps revered the matriarch first and foremost, but under them was their first in command. Kora, despite her young age, seemed to have already proved herself to the hagraven. It was a huge honor that often left the It First’s as the next matriarch, and usually hagraven. Despite not usually being vain, Aithne couldn’t imagine someone like Kora sacrificing her humanity and looks to become an old crone. Then again in turn she would get respect and power that most would never have the chance to gain. Still, it was a pity and many would quietly mourn the day that Kora followed in Drascua’s footsteps.

“I hope you’re ready.” Kora said ominously as she tied her dark hair back with an eerie gleam in her eyes. Perhaps it was a requirement to be too invested in research if one was working with matriarchs. Specifically, the kind that caused discomfort to Aithne. Though Aithne could respect the fact that they seemed to always be working forward in magical research, granted at the expense of others.

“I hope I am,” Aithne said with a small laugh that sounded forced to her own ears. Gods, what were they going to do to her?

“You’ll be fine,” Kora promised as she began placing soul gems and charcoal on the floor in patterns. “We’re going to make sure you aren’t possessed firstly. Then we’ll just go down the list.” The list she had in hand was rather extensive, to say the least. “I hope you didn’t have anything planned for the rest of the afternoon.” Aithne was also apparently going to suffer through Kora’s sarcasm as well it seemed.

“I’ve also happened upon some information regarding the Dragonborn condition.” Drascua addressed it like a disease. “Not much is written about them, but there are ways. You could hike along the Throat of the World and hope that a group of extremely reclusive monks let you into their monastery, provided you don’t die of weather or frost-troll related incidents on the way up. The Mage’s College would more than likely have more texts on it, but whether they would even let an outsider have access to it is another matter. I suppose you could also attempt to hunt down the Blades, but they’re all but extinct and in turn, the Thalmor would more than likely kill you for trying…”

“So our options are none?” Aithne breathed out, a bit disappointed. Were they ever going to find answers at this rate?

Drascua shook her head. “No, child. It just means that we are likely on our own, but that isn’t exactly unusual for us. Although, if you wish to pursue one of these options you have the right to do so.”

“I’ll think about it.” Aithne nodded. She supposed that it was best to get through with this first and worry about the Nordic legend business later.

“Good,” Drascua nodded with approval. “I promise it won’t be anything too invasive and I’ll only take a few samples.”

A few sounded more like a few too many, but Aithne was in no position to argue and she was accustomed to answering to the demands of hagravens. Such was the way of life within the Reach. Aithne was a little surprised that they implemented Stendarr techniques that would make any Vigilant of Stendarr proud. Well, expect the fact that it was a Daedra-worshiping hagraven doing it. That probably wouldn’t sit well with them. Or anyone outside of the Reach for that matter. It was a curious thing to Aithne, that out of most of the cultures in Skyrim, the Reach had been the only one to allow the worship of Daedra and Aedra. She understood why they revered the Divines, but she didn’t understand why they would choose to only worship them when they aren’t the only gods out there. Aithne would probably never know the answer to that question, but it still kept her up at night.

“Hold still.” Drascua snapped after a moment. “The more you make me struggle to get the blood sample, the more samples I will take. This is why I usually do this on dead bodies. The alive ones move too much.” She warned, her black eyes narrowed dangerously and Aithne knew she would make good on her word. “Kora.” The shaman looked up from the books she had been pouring over, her own blue eyes were squinted from staring at the pile of books she had collected.

“Yes, matriarch?” Kora asked, her lips pursed in disdain at either what she read or being interrupted, though possibly both.

“Have you found anything useful yet?” The old crone asked as she shuffled back over to the table, the vials in her hands were full of Aithne’s blood. Aithne herself was quietly casting a small healing spell on the hand that had been almost ceremoniously cut open for Drascua to use.

“I will inform you when I do,” Kora reassured her as she pushed the book she had been reading to the side. “It’s mostly just about Tiber Septim and his heirs. Though there was one that spoke briefly about the Akaviri. ‘Dunno why though.” She added with a small sigh.

Aithne took the moment of rest to look over Drascua’s personal notes thus far. It was scrawled out haphazardly on a yellow piece of parchment. Subject Aithne’s signs thus far: headache, heightened irritation (also seems to have the ability to irritate others) and aggression, can speak broken bits of Dragon tongue, and strip dragon’s of their flesh and magic(?).

Aithne felt her irritation spike for a moment but settled down. Drascua kept her on a cocktail of blue mountain flower potions to keep the throbbing in her skull to a minimum and an enchanted Calm amulet on her. She was getting restless and honestly wanted results.

“Oh, Aithne,” Kora said, drawing Aithne’s attention back to the present and to her. “When we went back to Ragnvald to retrieve the rest of what’s left I took a charcoal sketch of the words on the wall you mentioned.” She said as she pulled the paper out. For a moment it looked like just lines and dots, but the word that stuck out to her was obvious.

“There,” Aithne pointed to it with her newly healed hand. “That’s Kaan. It has to do with peace and Kyne, I think.”

“Well, Kaan translates directly to Kyne. Which is the Nordic goddess for Kynareth, but she’s supposed to be the head goddess or something. I don’t know why, I’m not an expert of Nordic religion just because I’ve been tasked with suddenly researching them.” Kora said defensively.

Drascua’s face pinched together, and while Aithne was not an expert on body language for any being, she thought she might be the slightest bit pleased. “It literally translates to Kyne, dear.” Kora made a face that spoke volumes of, ‘yes, I just said that’ without it being said aloud. “What the word meant for dragons, however, is something we are no longer privy to. Most of their sayings had been in groups of words and often mistranslated because the race of Men has forgotten what context means. Not to mention the dragons didn’t make it a habit to worship the gods as we do.”

Kora’s eyebrows went up for a moment. “Oh.” She nodded as it sank it. Aithne looked a tad helplessly between them for a moment.

“Oh? What does oh mean?” She asked impatiently. Aithne had to deal with them all day and she had barely been able to keep up. “Is oh good?”

“Oh could be, I suppose,” Kora said as if she were measuring out her words. “What the matriarch is implying is that Kaan is, in fact, Kyne to us, but the meaning behind the word could be peace. To dragons.” Her eyes briefly glanced over at Aithne as she said the last bit.

Or Dragonborns. Aithne’s stomach churned at the thought, though her blood rushed with something that felt like adrenaline. It felt like the whole day had nearly been spent trying to convince themselves that Aithne’s new “gift,” as Kora gently puts it, is a result of literally anything else.  
Aithne suppressed the connection she felt between the pressure in her head and the word Kaan for the umpteenth time that day.

“So I have the happenstance to suddenly understand dragon context and culture now?” Aithne stated rather than asked. Her voice was strained and Kora gave her pitying look. Aithne hated being pitied.

Drascua, on the other hand, was consistently fresh out of pity and mercy. “I wouldn’t give yourself that much credit. You know one word among an entire language, but that doesn't make you fluent. Just strange.”

Aithne could live with being strange, just not Nordic or at least in the supremely patriotic and Ninth Divine worshiping type of Nordic. She had been raised from birth that the Tiber Septim and (until recently) Empire loving Nords of Skyrim were the antithesis of the Reach. First they kicked the Reachman from their thrones and out into the wilds and let the Nords take over all the while the Empire branded them as barbaric and then said Nords continued to suppress them for years to come. Then when they took back their home twenty some years ago, only for it to be felled by Ulfric Stormcloak, the Bear of Markarth and public enemy no. 1 to the people of the Reach. Aithne was only twenty-seven and was among the generation that had been born during the conflict that ensued when the late King Madanach retook Markarth. She was also among the generation who are largely orphans because of Ulfric Stormcloak.

“Fair point,” Aithne conceded. “But what does it mean?”

Drascua gave her a long look. “I’m not going to tell someone who’s bleeding out they’re not going to die unless I know for sure that their end is not near.”

Was that supposed to be comforting? Aithne didn’t think so. “Then I suppose I should ask if I’m going to bleed out?”

“I do not know that yet, child.” Drascua admitted. “It’s possible, but I cannot prove for certain yet.”

Aithne held back a sigh as her gaze narrowed slightly at the hagraven. “You took those samples for personal use, then?”

Drascua actually smirked as much as her wrinkled lips allowed her to. “You’re a clever girl when you want to be.”

Aithne was not surprised, disappointed, but not surprised. Kora did have the grace to look a tad guilty for not intervening, but it wasn’t like the matriarch would listen to her anyway. “Thanks, I think.”

“You’re welcome.” She nodded back to her before turning her attention back to the matter at hand. “For what it’s worth, even if you do end up being a- old gods forbid -Dragonborn it just means that you’ll be a glorified dragon slayer. Which may be what the Reach needs right now.”

Aithne did take comfort in that, especially knowing that Drascua was the last person- or thing -that would say something only to make someone feel better. “Uh… Thank you, for real this time.”

“None needed or wanted,” the old crone said dismissively, effectively ruining the moment. “It may interest you that we might be able to actually test this theory out though. If we can get it to work.”

“It doesn’t involve more blood, does it?” Aithne said a little uneasily. She wasn’t a stranger to fighting or being hurt, but it was a different situation where she was willingly undergoing it.

Drascua made a low huff, which Aithne had come to associate with irritation. “No, it doesn’t. It takes some concentration, I do hope you can manage that.”  
Aithne did her best to hold her tongue as she nodded her head to answer instead.

“Good. If you can’t keep up, Kora will attempt to better elaborate. I haven’t the patience to walk you through this.” Drascua began as she ran her index claw down the parchment of the paper Kora had of the words from the wall in Ragnvald. “The easiest comparison is that of Ulfric Stormcloak. He possess what the Nords call The Voice. It was what gave him an edge during the Battle for Markarth twenty-five years ago.” Aithne flinched slightly as the hagraven’s eyes darkened at the memory. “The Voice is an ability where its users speak a word of power, like a spell, but the effects are quite… devastating and one does not have to be a mage to use it. It was, supposedly, passed down by the dragons to humans a long time ago. Though it took years for them to master one word. Unless they were among Akatosh’s chosen, the Dragonborns. It is rumored that it takes them moments, because of their dragon blood.”

Aithne believed she had actually kept up this time as she nodded. “So, I basically need to see if I can master The Voice?”

“It’s not that simple.” The hagraven sighed as she folded her thin, clawed hands together with a thoughtful gaze. “I don’t know why Dragonborns are able to accelerate their progress, but I imagine it has something to do with what they take from dragons. Some claim that they take their memories, their Voice, and their very souls.”

“So… It’s like being a soul gem, but for dragons and I’m alive.” Aithne quirked a brow, no longer sure if this was going in any direction she was comfortable with. It would explain what happened after the dragon died and why she felt like there was someone, or something, else in her mind.

“If that’s how your mind can grasp this concept, then yes.” Drascua said as she tapped on the paper. “Furthermore, there were certain words that held that power. I would bet that Kaan is a word of power and you just haven’t been able to use it yet.”

Kora looked between the matriarch and Aithne. “And how does she use it, though?”

“Well, it’s a spoken power so she’ll have to say it.” Drascua continued. “I believe the correct term is Shouting.”

“I have to shout it, then?” Aithne quirked a brow, not entirely convinced.

“Yes.” Drascua nodded seriously. “Though obviously there is more to it than that. Magic is a learned practice and I imagine some studying will have to be done on your part.”

Aithne wasn’t a master in the arts of magic, but she remembered how much work she had put into it to get this far. “Yes, matriarch.” She said, knowing when an order was implied and not spoken outright.

“Good.” Drascua hummed a slight trill in her voice. “I would also advise against taking anymore potions for the time being unless it becomes unbearable.”  
That was a harder order to follow, but Aithne nodded dutifully. “As you wish.”

The hagraven gave her a dismissive wave. “Be gone with you, then. Kora will continue to see if she can find anything else. I must attend to other matters. You are not the only thing that apparently requires my attention.”

Aithne gave her a quick salute before making herself scarce, honestly eager to get away from the matriarch’s clutches for awhile. Kora gave Aithne a small nod as she past, but was quickly reabsorbed into her work. Aithne had been supplied with her own small tent, thankfully, that someone had pitched together for her while she was being watched over. It wasn’t unusual for those who had the time to spend it helping others out, whether by doing small chores or errands for the camp. As a people, the Forsworn lived and died together. It was their unity that had kept their goal alive of taking the Reach back. 

The small pile of mountain flowers right outside it did not go unnoticed. Whoever had set up a small space for Aithne had intended to thank her, though Aithne didn’t believe she should be. Had she been on her own, she would’ve been dead. Even if she was a dragonborn, there was no telling how they would react. She imagined that it would certainly have mixed reactions, some of which certainly wouldn’t be pleasant. Sure, there were Nords among their ranks, but not any that could have been considered as a Nordic icon or have an immediate association with Ulfric Stormcloak or Tiber Septim. The only experience her people had with The Voice wasn’t pleasant.

Aithne quickly entered the tent and sat down on the small pelt placed there. Ignoring the possible issues her people might have with her felt like the most comfortable choice of action at the moment. Besides, there wasn’t any concrete evidence besides what happened with the dragon. Perhaps she could go to the Mage’s College and see what they had to say. They were a cynical group and if she showed up claiming to be a Dragonborn they’d probably work their asses off to prove her wrong, which was what she wanted. For now, though, she would try to do that herself. Aithne wasn’t sure how she was supposed to practice The Voice, even if it was considered magic. Magic came naturally to her, but it still took years of honing practice, and the occasional meditation. It was relaxing to sit for a few hours, just quietly sorting through her thoughts.

The crackle of fire and the exchanges between the Forsworn set her at ease. Many were telling stories of their fallen comrades’ achievements and life. Many were lost though while the conversation was light at times, it was filled with promise and vengeance. Instead of the Nords paying for it, the dragons would. Aithne shouldn’t be surprised that the Reachmen had accordingly added slaying dragons in their fight for liberation if any stood in their way. Camp relations between different ones were always great, but internally they were a tight-knit community. Though Aithne could imagine that if there were more dragons than just a few spotted within the Reach, the others would begin to add dragons to their personal agenda.

It was comforting and Aithne didn’t realize pressure in her head slipping a deep feeling washed over her. This was her peace. Her Kaan.

/-/

Winterhold was anything but peaceful. In fact, the heart of the disturbances the city faced generally came from the College of Mages. Few ventured that far north into Skyrim, even to learn under the only school of magic within the country because they knew of its rather strained history with the locals. There was almost always something happening because of the school.

Today was no different.

The look Tolfdir gave the four students could have frozen Winterhold over if it wasn't a tundra already. Tadion visibly flinched as the power of Tolfdir's glare landed on him. It didn't help that he was a head taller than the old wizard and yet it was if Tolfdir was looking down on him.

"What. Happened." Tolfdir demanded in a clipped tone that they were not aware the old alteration mage possessed.

"W-well," Brelyna bravely began as she recounted the events that had ended with a rusty old dagger and a missing (but presumed dead) professor. "We thought Arniel Gane knew what he was doing."

"Obviously he did," J'zargo remarked under his breath. Tadion bit the inside of his cheek as he was not the only one of the receiving end of Tolfdir's anger. Although... J'zargo wasn't wrong. Arniel Gane's experiment did work. It was just very unfortunate that it did.

Brelyna elbowed the Khajiit as subtly as she could. Onmund looked like he was about to faint. Tadion thought it would have been fun to see the big Nord more uncomfortable than usual had their magical careers within the College (though possibly their lives) not be at stake. They couldn't be expelled for accessory to... the slightly purposeful disappearance of a professor, could they? Tadion truly hoped that wasn't a thing. From what he had heard before coming was that students, and the occasional professor, either died or went missing due to failed (in this case quite successful) experiments on at least a yearly basis. Surely Tolfdir would treat this as an addition to the statistic.

"What she means, is that we knew what Arniel was doing, but we didn't think he could do it," Tadion explained. "How were we supposed to know that he'd succeed?"  
Apparently, that was the wrong answer.

"You knew he was trying to recreate the events that led up to the Dwemer's extinction?" Tolfdir paced as his hands began to clinch with an audible 'pop.' Even J'zargo flinched. 

"What were you going to do if it led to our extinction?"

"Well, it only took out one race last time, so..." Tadion gestured to their small, but very diverse group. Brelyna was a Dunmer, Onmund a Nord, and J'zargo was Khajiit. He was an Altmer himself and he doubted his kind would ever leave Tamriel by melodramatic means such as accidental self-annihilation. In his eyes, he had a good chance at survival. Tadion stopped talking as Tolfdir rolled his eyes.

"That was not the point," Tolfdir said sharply. "Experimentation within certain parameters is fine. However, as long as it doesn't result in the loss of one of our staff."  
Students were expendable, went unspoken but understood. Tadion began to rethink why he had come to Winterhold, to begin with. Students weren't exactly lining up to freeze their asses off for years and participate in questionable practices, but he supposed, even fewer teachers were willing to either. It would probably take awhile to fill Gane's position.  
"Or student." He added in afterthought, but they knew which he was currently more concerned over.

"Of course." They mumbled in reply, trying to look somewhat repentant. Tolfdir gave them a nod after he felt like they were chastised enough.

"Good, you will not be attending lectures this morning." Tolfdir looked more annoyed as the four seemed to be relieved. Why did he give up his pursuit to become a scholar to become a teacher? The younger generations weren't all that appreciative of the knowledge and experience handed down by their senior generations any longer. Though technically Tadion likely had at least a couple of decades on him, he acted as mature as his fellows. "You will be helping me and one of our master wizards study Saarthal today. You will not do anything we don't explicitly instruct. You will not do anything stupid to get I or anyone else killed. Is that understood?"

If there was one thing worse than some of Tolfdir's driest lectures, it had to have been dusting an ancient tomb’s broken plates and warding off the occasional draugr. At least there was the potential to use spells in a productive manner other than fending off frostbite.

"Yes, Tolfdir." They chimed somewhat miserably. Tolfdir's expression lightened in the slightest with satisfaction.

The trek to the Nordic ruin started out like usual. First, they made their way through the scarcely populated and supremely superstitious village. The glares and hurried peasants that made the occasional sharp comment to them wasn't atypical. If anything, Winterhold wouldn't be Winterhold if no one spits on them for being mages. J'zargo growled lowly as one 'accidentally' shoved past his shoulder. That was as bad as actual physical aggression got and that was hardly anything to retaliate against. Brelyna rolled her eyes, muttering about "peasants," and recast the flame cloak around her in subtle warning as they continued.

The people of Winterhold were generally good people. Just people who had been through a lot with the College. It took Tadion awhile to truly understand that and not get mad in turn. Did he deserve the mistreatment? No, he hadn’t even been in Skyrim long enough to offend anyone. Did the Nords still give him an evil eye nonetheless for being an Altmer and wizard? Yes, but he had a thick skin and an occasionally open mind. Though his fingers did spark when it got particularly upsetting, but it rarely got that far.

The four began making their way across the frozen expanse. Wolves, horkers, and the occasional troll hindered travelers, but the mages found themselves alone as they walked.

"It's too quiet, don't ya think?" Onmund frowned deeply as his eyes wandered over the remains of a few unfortunate trolls who had been frozen solid. All four exchanged glances.

Since when were frost trolls able to be frozen?

"You don't think another mage is out here? Like Nelacar?" Brelyna murmured thoughtfully. "It had to have been a powerful mage, though I don't recall anyone at the College having this kind of affinity for frost magic."

Tadion's voice was muffled by the scarf in front of his face. "I hope it's Nelacar... I really want an excuse to kick his pompous ass."

Nelacar was the second most dreadful non-Thalmor Altmer Tadion ever had the displeasure of dealing with. Tadion could still remember the mage's complete lack of cooperation when they dealt with Azura's broken star.

"Do you think muscling me is going to work? I'm a wizard. An old. Elven. Wizard. Think about it." Nelacar had jabbed that particularly at Tadion himself and it still boiled his blood thinking about. There was nothing like two Altmer wizards trying to prove one’s better than the other.

"J'zargo was impressed he wasn't intimidated by novice mages." The Khajiit said sarcastically.

"I'm not a novice!" Tadion snapped as another sharp wind blew, making him shiver past the enchantments on his robes.

"That's what a novice would say." Brelyna pointed out cheekily.

"I'm a novice.." Onmund frowned in reluctant agreement.

"At least the Nord admits it." J'zargo huffed in amusement.

"If you weren't considered a novice, you wouldn't have been put with us," Brelyna said matter-of-factly.

Tadion rolled his brown eyes. "I've studied at some of the most prestigious schools under the Aldmeri Dominion. I. Am. Not. A novice."

"Yet you're here in the backend of Skyrim as a destruction novice." Tadion didn't have to look to see her smirk and decided to just quietly concede.

Tadion might not be the best at the destruction and enchantment schools of magic but the rest he was pretty adept at. He had left the Summer Set Isles to see if training under a completely different school would help, or so he told himself. It also might have something to do with the Aldmeri Dominion itself and how his family was completely blinded by the elven supremacy and racism within the Thalmor.

Gods.. It made him sick thinking that his family could be counted among the Thalmor. The same elves that would see J'zargo and all Khajiit enslaved because they're one of the 'beast races,' despite being their allies. That Nords like Onmund who'd readily fight in defense for their beloved Empire be executed. Or even Brelyna would probably be either forced to join the Thalmor or be killed because she was a Dunmer and not the 'proper race of elf.'

Even Tadion was under scrutiny. A son from the House of Vatour that had heralded great war heroes and mages alike wasn't Altmer enough because he couldn't master magic as well as his peers. Granted it hadn't helped that his brother ran off to the Empire to do gods-know-what with gods-know-who, but he would still be welcome home. He was a war hero and Tadion was pretty positive that if he came back, the Thalmor would take him in with open arms. Despite his brother’s lack of loyalty, he was powerful and the Thalmor feared it. Then there was his perfect sister. She was an astounding sorceress since she was young and now she’s a newly promoted Justicar. And here Tadion was, the youngest and somehow most disappointing, in the shadow cast by his siblings because the Gods probably hated him.

In the shadow... Tadion's eyes widened as he snapped out of his reverie. That's a big-ass shadow, he thought with alarm.

"Is that.." Onmund's deep voice cracked as they collectively looked up and saw the giant creature soaring above them. "A dragon?"

"It looks like a fucking dragon," Brelyna looked horrified as she glanced between her companions and said rapidly approaching dragon. "What the hell are we supposed to do, we're novices?"

"Uh... J'zargo will see you at Saarthal, friends!" The Khajiit said and quickly started making his way down the path with a speed that was a hallmark of his race.

"WAIT FOR ME," Onmund shouted as he pushed past Brelyna and Tadion while also yelling other unintelligible noises, mostly at the two that abandoned them.

Tadion and Brelyna took cover as the dragon swooped down menacingly. "Well... If we go different ways it'll probably go after one of us, right?" She suggested as Tadion nodded. "Run on three?" Tadion nodded again.

"One, two-" The dragon's roar drowned out Tadion's angry yelling as Brelyna took a head start. Tadion left the cover of the rock and started sprinting as the dragon breathed a trail of frost near them.

Tadion was many things. He was an apparent novice in destruction. He was a disappointment to his family. However, he was also vengeful, smart and really good at illusion spells. Tadion didn't feel a shred of remorse as he cast the strongest invisibility spell he could over himself. Brelyna would hopefully live to think twice about crossing him again in the future as he managed to easily evade the dragon's attacks once it began to focus on the Dunmer.

Hopefully, but not probably. Tadion thought as he took a different direction and left Brelyna and the dragon.

It took awhile to reach Saarthal once he managed to completely evade the dragon. He had ended up making a wrong turn or two, but he found his way back to the path and continued to the ruin. Tadion was not surprised to see Onmund and J'zargo already there. Tolfdir was also at the entrance, looking unamused.

"I don't suppose you took the scenic route here too?" The professor asked.

"I might have gone the wrong way.." Tadion said before apologizing. "I'm sorry, professor."

"Oh, did you see the dragon too?" Sarcasm really didn't suite the old professor well.

Tadion nodded hesitantly as the old man rolled his eyes.

"I'll give you all credit for creativity at least. I had one group of students once claim that they ran into a pack giants and that's why there were late." Tolfdir rolled his eyes. "Good to know that some things never change." He sighed as Brelyna staggered down the stairs.

"Pr-professor!" Brelyna gasped as she leaned against the wall. "There's a-"

"Dragon. Rumor mill works fast, apparently."Tolfdir sighed, but he did give her a skeptical once-over. Her age robes were tattered more than they had been before and she did look like she came out of a losing battle.

"What.. What are we going to do about it?" Brelyna asked anxiously, her red eyes wide.

Tolfdir's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "If we encounter an extinct species I'll let you know. Until such time, I expect all of you to be in Saarthal, helping me and the other professors out since you all had the good sense to help one exterminate himself.”

They reluctantly began collecting samples and sifting through rubble.

“This isn’t right,” Onmund muttered to himself. “Going through the remains of my dead kin. We should leave them be.”

“You know what else isn’t right?” Tadion glared over at him. “Leaving your friends to face a dragon by themselves.”

Brelyna snorted as she sat down on one of the larger pieces of debris with an exhausted sigh. “Says you… the all-powerful Altmer who left me behind to nearly get killed by that thing.”

“Well you got a head start, so I frankly don’t care.” Tadion huffed as he set aside another stupid plate that held no meaning or value but was still one of the most common items found in Nordic ruins. He would chide J’Zargo, but after the incident that occurred when they found the dagger for Arniel Gane, he was sure the Khajiit was immune.

“J’Zargo apologizes to his friends… Surely they understand.” Said Khajiit looked the slightest bit sheepish. “Though J’Zargo is curious how his Dunmer lady-friend got away? Did you kill the dragon?”

Brelyna glared at his comment but continued anyway. “No. I blinded the dragon when it tried to freeze me with as much fire as I could muster in the heat of the moment. I promptly ran before it got the chance to return the favor… I just hope it stays out here, away from Winterhold. Azura knows they’d blame us for the return of the dragons.”

“Return of the dragons, that’s something out of legend. Besides, everyone knows that the only way to kill a dragon is by being a Dovahkiin.” Onmund said with an awed look. “You know, if the dragons really are returning and this isn’t a freak incident… What if one of us is the Dragonborn? What if I am?”

J’Zargo rolled his eyes. “Nords and their Nordic legends, their Nordic heroes... I doubt the Dragonborn would’ve ran off in the face of a dragon.”

“What if it’s because I’m a novice Dragonborn?” Onmund shot back with a pleased look.

“Then we’re all doomed.” Tolfdir intervened with a grim look, practically making the mages present jump to attention. “Dragons have been gone for millennia and the last known Dragonborn ended with the Septim dynasty over two hundred years ago.”

“I swear to you that we saw one, professor.” Brelyna pleaded as she got up. Tolfdir sighed as his resolve seemed to softened a bit. “It nearly killed us.”

“You all will need to give your accounts to the Arch-Mage. If it poses a threat to the College or Winterhold, he will want to take matters into his own hands.” Tolfdir decided. If they were lying, Savos Aren could handle it himself. “We have a couple of things to look into here still, two of you will report back to the Arch-Mage now to give your accounts of what happened. A professor will go as well, though I expect them to be alive when they reach the College this time.”

Tolfdir still hadn’t forgotten about Arniel Gane yet. Granted the incident had only occurred yesterday.

“Of course.” They all nodded quickly, though they didn’t like their odds. What if they ran into the dragon again?

Tolfdir ended up deciding to let J’Zargo and Tadion go, but where accompanied by one of the scholars, Nirya. Despite being a fellow Altmer, Tadion found her to be a little too much to handle during most occasions.

Oh, you’re from the House of Vatour? Oh, is your older brother still single? If I lived in Alinor, I would’ve let my family arrange a marriage between us. I’ve heard Ancano speak of your sister often. Are they an item? No? Good. He’s a rather attractive man, isn’t he?

That was just among the first interactions Tadion had the displeasure of having with her. He shouldn’t have been surprised that Nirya would know of his family since she was originally from the Summer Set Isles, but it was mostly due to wishful thinking. Shadows, it seemed, were a lot harder to get out of than he imagined.

Upon arriving, Ancano the Thalmor-Advisor barely paid them any mind. Though Tadion would be surprised if the “advisor” reported what he did to his sister. He wasn’t familiar with how their hierarchy worked for the most part, but his sister was nothing if not resourceful and had a tendency to be apart of his business whether or not he wanted her to be. Ancano brushed past them and they went up to the Arch-Mage’s rooms. Nirya left with a soft sigh as she allowed them to continue without her. More than likely so she could bother the Thalmor, which was fine with Tadion and J’Zargo.

The Arch-Mage was a decent man and rumored to be a mage of exceptional talent. He was also a skeptic and gave them both degrees of a weathering look. “You claim you both saw a dragon?”

They both nodded earnestly. “J'Zargo was nearly turned into Khajiit-sickle.”

“I can attest to that. It flew back north after it attacked Brelyna while we were on our way to Saarthal.” Tadion nodded as well.

“Saarthal…” The old Dunmer’s eyes narrowed as he looked between them. “You all wouldn’t happen to be the students who helped Arniel Gane with his misguided endeavor, are you?”

Tentatively, they nodded as the Arch-Mage sighed with trepidation. Tolfdir’s wrath was one thing, Savos Aren’s was probably a different story if he was genuinely upset. However, he seemed more annoyed than anything.

“Well, I will deal with this. Perhaps we should keep this matter to ourselves and not our… Thalmor friend, yes?” Savos said with a quirked brow, looking pleased again as the two students agreed. The Arch-Mage put up with a lot of shit from the Thalmor Advisor, he didn’t want to give him a reason to invite more Thalmor to his college. One was bad enough.

He quickly dismissed the students. Though if dragons were real, they had more problems on their hands than just the Thalmor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes for this chapter:  
> Just to make sure it’s clear, when Aithne was suppressing the connection between the dragon soul she had and the word, she was blocking it from becoming Thu’um.   
> Drascua is not an expert when it comes to dragons or Dragonborns and so most of her opinions are mere speculation and not complete or entirely correct. Though a lot of information on Dragonborns can be found if you know where to look.  
> Aithne also mentions she’s in her twenties. Twenty-seven years ago Madanach retook Markarth and ruled PEACEFULLY for two years before Ulfric Stormcloak laid siege to Markarth. Once Ulfric had the city he slaughtered everyone (including innocent Nords, elders, older children, women, and men) who did not help them. You can imagine that the Reachmen where pretty pissed off and still are years later. No I am not pulling this out of nowhere. This is legitimately canon. Please read “The Bear of Markarth.” It’s an in-game book all about what happened. And also note that everyone is under the impression that Madanach is dead because he’s been imprisoned for so long, only his closest agents know he’s alive.  
> Up Next… Savos Aren would be correct. There are more problems than just the Thalmor when his students discover that there is more under Saarthal and the College is graced with the presence of a Dragonborn. Though whether she will help solve some of their problems or make it worse is hard to tell.

**Author's Note:**

> And here are a few notes about this chapter:
> 
> Mirmulnir is the first dragon you kill at Whiterun and his name translates to allegiance, strong, hunt. Also, the reason as to why Aithne goes a tad crazy for a moment is that I imagine devouring a soul for the first time is probably rough. And a lot of the forsworn names will have Irish and Scottish influences in it. 
> 
> Up next: Aithne gets to have the honor of being Drascua's next human experiment. This next chapter will also bring in the Mage's College, another dragon, and someone may be able to help her but not without consequences.


End file.
